The Memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, entire by Jean Francois Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz

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MEMOIRS OF JEAN FRANCOIS PAUL de GONDI, CARDINAL DE RETZ, v1

Written by Himself

Being Historic Court Memoirs of the Great Events during the Minority ofLouis XIV. and the Administration of Cardinal Mazarin.

ORIGINAL PREFACE.

Our Author, John Francis Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, Sovereign ofCommercy, Prince of Euville, second Archbishop of Paris, Abbot of SaintDenis in France, was born at Montmirail, in Brie, in October, 1614.

His father was Philippe Emanuel de Gondi, Comte, de Joigni, General ofthe Galleys of France and Knight of the King's Orders; and his mother wasFrances Marguerite, daughter of the Comte de Rochepot, Knight of theKing's Orders, and of Marie de Lannoy, sovereign of Commercy and Euville.

Pierre de Gondi, Duc de Retz, was his brother, whose daughter was theDuchesse de Lesdiguieres.

His grandfather was Albert de Gondi, Duc de Retz, Marquis de Belle Isle,a Peer of France, Marshal and General of the Galleys, Colonel of theFrench Horse, First Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and Great Chamberlain tothe Kings Charles IX. and Henri III.

This history was first printed in Paris in 1705, at the expense of theDuchesse de Lesdiguieres, the last of this noble family, whose estatefell after her decease to that of Villeroy.

His preceptor was the famous Vincent de Paul, Almoner to Queen Anne ofAustria.

In 1627 he was made a Canon of the Cathedral of Paris by his uncle, JeanFrancois de Gondi, first archbishop of that city, and was not long aftercreated a Doctor of the Sorbonne.

In 1643 he was appointed Coadjutor of the archbishopric of Paris, withthe title of Archbishop of Corinth, during which, such was his pastoralvigilance that the most important affairs of the Church were committed tohis care.

As to his general character, if we take it from his own Memoirs, he hadsuch presence of mind, and so dexterously improved all opportunitieswhich fortune presented to him, that it seemed as if he had foreseen ordesired them. He knew how to put a good gloss upon his failings, andoftentimes verily believed he was really the man which he affected to beonly in appearance. He was a man of bright parts, but no conduct, beingviolent and inconstant in his intrigues of love as well as those ofpolitics, and so indiscreet as to boast of his successful amours withcertain ladies whom he ought not to have named. He affected pomp andsplendour, though his profession demanded simplicity and humility. Hewas continually shifting parties, being a loyal subject one day and thenext a rebel, one time a sworn enemy to the Prime Minister, and by and byhis zealous friend; always aiming to make himself formidable ornecessary. As a pastor he had engrossed the love and confidence of thepeople, and as a statesman he artfully played them off against theirsovereign. He studied characters thoroughly, and no man painted them intruer colours more to his own purpose. Sometimes he confesses hisweaknesses, and at other times betrays his self-flattery.

It being his fate to be imprisoned by Mazarin, first at Vincennes andthen at Nantes, he made his escape to Rome, and in 1656 retired toFranche Comte, where Cardinal Mazarin gave orders for his being arrested;upon which he posted to Switzerland, and thence to Constance, Strasburg,Ulm, Augsburg, Frankfort, and Cologne, to which latter place Mazarin sentmen to take him dead or alive; whereupon he retired to Holland, and madea trip from one town to another till 1661, when, Cardinal Mazarin dying,our Cardinal went as far as Valenciennes on his way to Paris, but was notsuffered to come further; for the King and Queen-mother would not besatisfied without his resignation of the archbishopric of Paris, to whichhe at last submitted upon advantageous terms for himself and an amnestyfor all his adherents. But still the Court carried it so severely to theCardinal that they would not let him go and pay his last devoirs to hisfather when on his dying bed. At length, however, after abundance ofsolicitation, he had leave to go and wait upon the King and Queen, who,on the death of Pope Alexander VII., sent him to Rome to assist at theelection of his successor.

No wonder that King Charles II. of England promised to intercede for theCardinal's reestablishment; for when the royal family were starving, asit were, in their exile at Paris, De Retz did more for them than all theFrench Court put together; and, upon the King's promise to take the RomanCatholics of England under his protection after his restoration, he sentan abbot to Rome to solicit the Pope to lend him money, and to disposethe English Catholics in his favour.

He would fain have returned his hat to the new Pope, but his Holiness, atthe solicitation of Louis XIV., ordered him to keep it. After this hechose a total retirement, lived with exemplary piety, considerablyretrenched his expenses, and hardly allowed himself common necessaries,in order to save money to pay off a debt of three millions, which he hadthe happiness to discharge, and to balance all accounts with the worldbefore his death, which happened at Paris on the 24th of August, 1679, inthe 65th year of his age.

HISTORIC COURT MEMOIRS.

CARDINAL DE RETZ.

BOOK I.

MADAME:--Though I have a natural aversion to give you the history of myown life, which has been chequered with such a variety of differentadventures, yet I had rather sacrifice my reputation to the commands of alady for whom I have so peculiar a regard than not disclose the mostsecret springs of my actions and the inmost recesses of my soul.

By the caprice of fortune many mistakes of mine have turned to my credit,and I very much doubt whether it would be prudent in me to remove theveil with which some of them are covered. But as I am resolved to giveyou a naked, impartial account of even the most minute passages of mylife ever since I have been capable of reflection, so I most humbly begyou not to be surprised at the little art, or, rather, great disorder,with which I write my narrative, but to consider that, though thediversity of incidents may sometimes break the thread of the history, yetI will tell you nothing but with all that sincerity which the regard Ihave for you demands. And to convince you further that I will neitheradd to nor diminish from the plain truth, I shall set my name in thefront of the work.

False glory and false modesty are the two rocks on which men who havewritten their own lives have generally split, but which Thuanus among themoderns and Caesar among the ancients happily escaped. I doubt not youwill do me the justice to believe that I do not pretend to compare myselfwith those great writers in any respect but sincerity,--a virtue in whichwe are not only permitted, but commanded, to rival the greatest heroes.

I am descended from a family illustrious in France and ancient in Italy,and born upon a day remarkable for the taking of a monstrous sturgeon ina small river that runs through the country of Montmirail, in Brie, theplace of my nativity.

I am not so vain as to be proud of having it thought that I was usheredinto the world with a prodigy or a miracle, and I should never havementioned this trifling circumstance had it not been for some libelssince published by my enemies, wherein they affect to make the saidsturgeon a presage of the future commotions in this kingdom, and me thechief author of them.

I beg leave to make a short reflection on the nature of the mind of man.I believe there never was a more honest soul in the world than myfather's; I might say his temper was the very essence of virtue. Forthough he saw I was too much inclined to duels and gallantry ever to makea figure as an ecclesiastic, yet his great love for his eldest son--notthe view of the archbishopric of Paris, which was then in his family--made him resolve to devote me to the service of the Church. For he wasso conscious of his reasons, that I could even swear he would haveprotested from the very bottom of his heart that he had no other motivethan the apprehension of the dangers to which a contrary profession mightexpose my soul. So true it is that nothing is so subject to delusion aspiety: all sorts of errors creep in and hide themselves under that veil;it gives a sanction to all the turns of imagination, and the honesty ofthe intention is not sufficient to guard against it. In a word, afterall I have told you, I turned priest, though it would have been longenough first had it not been for the following accident.

The Duc de Retz, head of our family, broke at that time, by the King'sorder, the marriage treaty concluded some years before between the Duc deMercoeur--[Louis, Duc de Mercoeur, since Cardinal de Vendome, father ofthe Duc de Vendome, and Grand Prior, died 1669.]--and his daughter, andnext day came to my father and agreeably surprised him by telling him hewas resolved to give her to his cousin to reunite the family.

As I knew she had a sister worth above 80,000 livres a year, I, that veryinstant, thought of a double match. I had no hopes they would think ofme, knowing how things stood, so I was resolved to provide for myself.

Having got a hint that my father did not intend to carry me to thewedding, as, foreseeing, it may be, what happened, I pretended to bebetter pleased with my profession, to be touched by what my father had sooften laid before me on that subject, and I acted my part so well thatthey believed I was quite another man.

My father resolved to carry me into Brittany, for the reason that I hadshown no inclination that way. We found Mademoiselle de Retz atBeaupreau, in Anjou. I looked on the eldest only as my sister, butimmediately considered Mademoiselle de Scepaux (so the youngest wascalled) as my mistress.

I thought her very handsome, her complexion the most charming in theworld, lilies and roses in abundance, admirable eyes, a very prettymouth, and what she wanted in stature was abundantly made up by theprospect of 80,000 livres a year and of the Duchy of Beaupreau, and by athousand chimeras which I formed on these real foundations.

I played my game nicely from the beginning, and acted the ecclesiasticand the devotee both in the journey and during my stay there;nevertheless, I paid my sighs to the fair one,--she perceived it.I spoke at last, and she heard me, but not with that complacency whichI could have wished.

But observing she had a great kindness for an old chambermaid, sister toone of my monks of Buzai, I did all I could to gain her, and by the meansof a hundred pistoles down, and vast promises, I succeeded. She made hermistress believe that she was designed for a nunnery, and I, for my part,told her that I was doomed to nothing less than a monastery. She couldnot endure her sister, because she was her father's darling, and I wasnot overfond of my brother,--[Pierre de Gondi, Duc de Retz, who died in1676.]--for the same reason. This resemblance in our fortunescontributed much to the uniting of our affections, which I persuadedmyself were reciprocal, and I resolved to carry her to Holland.

Indeed, there was nothing more easy, for Machecoul, whither we were comefrom Beaupreau, was no more than half a league from the sea. But moneywas the only thing wanting, for my treasury, was so drained by the giftof the hundred pistoles above mentioned that I had not a sou left. But Ifound a supply by telling my father that, as the farming of my abbeys wastaxed with the utmost rigour of the law, so I thought myself obliged inconscience to take the administration of them into my own hands. Thisproposal, though not pleasing, could not be rejected, both because it wasregular and because it made him in some measure believe that I would notfail to keep my benefices, since I was willing to take care of them.I went the next day to let Buzai,--[One of his abbeys.]-- which is butfive leagues from Machecoul. I treated with a Nantes merchant, whosename was Jucatieres, who took advantage of my eagerness, and for 4,000crowns ready money got a bargain that made his fortune. I thought I had4,000,000, and was just securing one of the Dutch pinks, which are alwaysin the road of Retz, when the following accident happened, which brokeall my measures.

Mademoiselle de Retz (for she had taken that name after her sister'smarriage) had the finest eyes in the world, and they never were sobeautiful as when she was languishing in love, the charms of which Inever yet saw equalled. We happened to dine at a lady's house, a leaguefrom Machecoul, where Mademoiselle de Retz, looking in the glass at anassembly of ladies, displayed all those tender, lively, moving airs whichthe Italians call 'morbidezza', or the lover's languish. Butunfortunately she was not aware that Palluau, since Marechal deClerambaut, was behind her, who observed her airs, and being very muchattached to Madame de Retz, with whom he had in her tender years beenvery familiar, told her faithfully what he had observed.

Madame de Retz, who mortally hated her sister, disclosed it that verynight to her father, who did not fail to impart it to mine. The nextmorning, at the arrival of the post from Paris, all was in a hurry, myfather pretending to have received very pressing news; and, after ourtaking a slight though public leave of the ladies, my father carried meto sleep that night at Nantes. I was, as you may imagine, under verygreat surprise and concern; for I could not guess the cause of thissudden departure. I had nothing to reproach myself with upon the scoreof my conduct; neither had I the least suspicion that Palluau had seenanything more than ordinary till I arrived at Orleans, where the matterwas cleared up, for my brother, to prevent my escape, which I vainlyattempted several times on my journey, seized my strong box, in which wasmy money, and then I understood that I was betrayed; in what grief, then,I arrived at Paris, I leave you to imagine.

I found there Equilli, Vasse's uncle, and my first cousin, who, Idaresay, was one of the most honest men of his time, and loved me fromhis very soul. I apprised him of my design to run away with Mademoisellede Retz. He heartily approved of my project, not only because it wouldbe a very advantageous match for me, but because he was persuaded that adouble alliance was necessary to secure the establishment of the family.

The Cardinal de Richelieu--[Armand Jean du Plesais, Cardinal deRichelieu, was born in 1585, and died in 1642.]--(then Prime Minister)mortally hated the Princesse de Guemenee, because he was persuaded shehad crossed his amours with the Queen,--[Anne of Austria, eldest daughterof Philip II., King of Spain, and wife of Louis XIII., died 1666.]--andhad a hand in the trick played him by Madame du Fargis, one of theQueen's dressing women, who showed her Majesty (Marie de Medicis) a love-letter written by his Eminence to the Queen, her daughter-in-law. TheCardinal pushed his resentment so far that he attempted to force theMarechal de Breze, his brother-in-law, and captain of the King's Life-guards, to expose Madame de Guemenee's letters, which were found in M. deMontmorency's--[Henri de Montmorency was apprehended on the 1st ofSeptember, 1632, and beheaded in Toulouse in November of the same year.]--coffer when he was arrested at Chateau Naudari. But the Marechal deBreze had so much honour and generosity as to return them to Madame deGuemenee. He was, nevertheless, a very extravagant gentleman; but theCardinal de Richelieu, perceiving he had been formerly honoured by somekind of relation to him, and dreading his angry excursions andpreachments before the King, who had some consideration for his person,bore with him very patiently for the sake of settling peace in his ownfamily, which he passionately longed to unite and establish, but whichwas the only thing out of his power, who could do whatever else hepleased in France. For the Marechal de Breze had conceived so strong anaversion to M. de La Meilleraye, who was then Grand Master of theArtillery, and afterwards Marechal de La Meilleraye, that he could notendure him. He did not imagine that the Cardinal would ever look upon aman who, though his first cousin, was of a mean extraction, had a mostcontemptible aspect, and, if fame says true, not one extraordinary goodquality.

The Cardinal was of another mind, and had a great opinion--indeed, withabundance of reason--of M. de La Meilleraye's courage; but he esteemedhis military capacity infinitely too much, though in truth it was notcontemptible. In a word, he designed him for that post which we havesince seen so gloriously filled by M. de Turenne.

You may, by what has been said, judge of the divisions that were inCardinal de Richelieu's family, and how much he was concerned to appeasethem. He laboured at them with great application, and for this endthought he could not do better than to unite these two heads of thefaction in a close confidence with himself, exclusive of all others.To this end he used them jointly and in common as the confidants of hisamours, which certainly were neither suitable to the lustre of hisactions nor the grandeur of his life; for Marion de Lorme, one of hismistresses, was little better than a common prostitute. Another of hisconcubines was Madame de Fruges, that old gentlewoman who was so oftenseen sauntering in the enclosure. The first used to come to hisapartment in the daytime, and he went by night to visit the other,who was but the pitiful cast-off of Buckingham and Epienne. The twoconfidants introduced him there in coloured clothes; for they had made upa hasty peace, to which Madame de Guemenee nearly fell a sacrifice.

M. de La Meilleraye, whom they called the Grand Master, was in love withMadame de Guemenee, but she could not love him; and he being, both in hisown nature and by reason of his great favour with the Cardinal, the mostimperious man living, took it very ill that he was not beloved. Hecomplained, but the lady was insensible; he huffed and bounced, but waslaughed to scorn. He thought he had her in his power because theCardinal, to whom he had declared his rage against her, had given him herletters, as above mentioned, which were written to M. de Montmorency,and, therefore, in his menaces he let fall some hints with relation tothose letters to the disadvantage of Madame de Guemenee. She thereuponridiculed him no longer, but went almost raving mad, and fell into suchan inconceivable melancholy that you would not have known her, andretired to Couperai, where she would let nobody see her.

As soon as I applied my mind to study I resolved at the same time to takethe Cardinal de Richelieu for my pattern, though my friends opposed it astoo pedantic; but I followed my first designs, and began my course withgood success. I was afterwards followed by all persons of quality of thesame profession; but, as I was the first, the Cardinal was pleased withmy fancy, which, together with the good offices done me by the GrandMaster with the Cardinal, made him speak well of me on several occasions,wonder that I had never made my court to him, and at the same time heordered M. de Lingendes, since Bishop of Magon, to bring me to his house.

This was the source of my first disgrace, for, instead of complying withthese offers of the Cardinal and with the entreaties of the Grand Master,urging me to go and make my court to him, I returned the most triflingexcuses and apologies; one time I pretended to be sick and went into thecountry. In short, I did enough to let them see that I did not care tobe a dependent on the Cardinal de Richelieu, who was certainly a verygreat man, but had this particular trait in his genius,--to take noticeof trifles. Of this he gave me the following instance: The history ofthe conspiracy of Jean Louis de Fiesque,--[Author of "The Conspiracy ofGenoa." He was drowned on the 1st of January, 1557.]--which I hadwritten at eighteen years of age, being conveyed by Boisrobert into theCardinal's hands, he was heard to say, in the presence of Marechald'Estrees and M. de Senneterre, "This is a dangerous genius." This wastold my father that very night by M. de Senneterre, and I took it asspoken to myself.

The success that I had in the acts of the Sorbonne made me fond of thatsort of reputation, which I had a mind to push further, and thought Imight succeed in sermons. Instead of preaching first, as I was advised,in the little convents, I preached on Ascension, Corpus Christi Day,etc., before the Queen and the whole Court, which assurance gained me agood character from the Cardinal; for, when he was told how well I hadperformed, he said, "There is no judging of things by the event; the manis a coxcomb." Thus you see I had enough to do for one of two-and-twentyyears of age.

M. le Comte,--[Louis de Bourbon, Comte de soissons, killed in the battleof Marfee, near Sedan, in 1641.]--who had a tender love for me, and towhose service and person I was entirely devoted, left Paris in the night,in order to get into Sedan, for fear of an arrest; and, in the meantime,entrusted me with the care of Vanbrock, the greatest confidant he had inthe world. I took care, as I was ordered, that he should never stir outbut at night, for in the daytime I concealed him in a private place,between the ceiling and the penthouse, where I thought it impossible foranything but a cat or the devil to find him. But he was not carefulenough of himself, for one morning my door was burst open, and armed menrushed into my chamber, with the provost at their head, who cried, with agreat oath, "Where is Vanbrock?" I replied, "At Sedan, monsieur, Ibelieve." He swore again most confoundedly, and searched the mattressesof all the beds in the house, threatening to put my domestics to the rackif they did not make a disclosure; but there was only one that knewanything of the matter, and so they went away in a rage. You may easilyimagine that when this was reported the Court would highly resent it.And so it happened, for the license of the Sorbonne being expired, andthe competitors striving for the best places, I had the ambition to putin for the first place, and did not think myself obliged to yield to theAbbe de La Mothe-Houdancourt, now Archbishop of Auch, over whom I hadcertainly some advantage in the disputations. I carried myself in thisaffair more wisely than might have been expected from my youth; for assoon as I heard that my rival was supported by the Cardinal, who did himthe honour to own him for his kinsman, I sent the Cardinal word, by M. deRaconis, Bishop of Lavaur, that I desisted from my pretension, out of therespect I owed his Eminence, as soon as I heard that he concerned himselfin the affair. The Bishop of Lavaur told me the Cardinal pretended thatthe Abby de La Mothe would not be obliged for the first place to mycession, but to his own merit. This answer exasperated me. I gave asmile and a low bow, pursued my point, and gained the first place byeighty-four voices. The Cardinal, who was for domineering in all placesand in all affairs, fell into a passion much below his character, eitheras a minister or a man, threatened the deputies of the Sorbonne to razethe new buildings he had begun there, and assailed my character againwith incredible bitterness.

All my friends were alarmed at this, and were for sending me in all hasteto Italy. Accordingly, I went to Venice, stayed there till the middle ofAugust, and was very near being assassinated; for I amused myself bymaking an intrigue with Signora Vendranina, a noble Venetian lady, andone of the most handsome I ever saw. M. de Maille, the King'sambassador, aware of the dangerous consequences of such adventures inthis country, ordered me to depart from Venice; upon which I went throughLombardy, and towards the end of September arrived at Rome, where theMarechal d'Estrees, who resided there as ambassador, gave me suchinstructions for my behaviour as I followed to a tittle. Though I had nodesign to be an ecclesiastic, yet since I wore a cassock I was resolvedto acquire some reputation at the Pope's Court. I compassed my designvery happily, avoiding any appearance of gallantry and lewdness, and mydress being grave to the last degree; but for all this I was at a vastexpense, having fine liveries, a very splendid equipage, and a train ofseven or eight gentlemen, whereof four were Knights of Malta. I disputedin the Colleges of Sapienza (not to be compared for learning with thoseof the Sorbonne), and fortune continued still to raise me. For thePrince de Schomberg, the Emperor's ambassador, sent me word one day,while I was playing at 'balon' at the baths of Antoninus, to leave theplace clear for him. I answered that I could have refused his Excellencynothing asked in a civil manner, but since it was commanded, I would havehim to know that I would obey the orders of no ambassador whatever,but that of the King, my master. Being urged a second time by oneof his attendants to leave the place, I stood upon my own defence, andthe Germans, more, in my opinion, out of contempt of the few people I hadwith me than out of any other consideration, let the affair drop. Thisbold carriage of so modest an abbe, to an ambassador who never wentabroad without one hundred musketeers on horseback to attend him, made agreat noise in Rome, and was much taken notice of by Cardinal Mazarin.

The Cardinal de Richelieu's health declining, the archbishopric of Pariswas now almost within my ken, which, together with other prospects ofgood benefices, made me resolve not to fling off the cassock but uponhonourable terms and valuable considerations; but having nothing yetwithin my view that I could be sure of, I resolved to distinguish myselfin my own profession by all the methods I could. I retired from theworld, studied very hard, saw but very few men, and had no morecorrespondence with any of the female sex, except Madame de -------.

The devil had appeared to the Princesse de Guemenee just a fortnightbefore this adventure happened, and was often raised by the conjurationsof M. d'Andilly, to frighten his votary, I believe, into piety, for hewas even more in love with her person than I myself; but he loved her inthe Lord, purely and spiritually. I raised, in my turn, a demon thatappeared to her in a more kind and agreeable form. In six weeks I gother away from Port Royal; I was very diligent in paying her my respects,and the satisfaction I had in her company, with some other agreeablediversions, qualified in a great measure the chagrin which attended myprofession, to which I was not yet heartily reconciled. This enchantmenthad like to have raised such a storm as would have given a new face tothe affairs of Europe if fortune had been ever so little on my side.

M. the Cardinal de Richelieu loved rallying other people, but could notbear a jest himself, and all men of this humour are always very crabbedand churlish; of which the Cardinal gave an instance, in a publicassembly of ladies, to Madame de Guemenee, when he threw out a severejest, which everybody observed was pointed at me. She was sensiblyaffronted, but I was enraged. For at last there was a sort of anunderstanding between us, which was often ill-managed, yet our interestswere inseparable. At this time Madame de La Meilleraye, with whom,though she was silly, I had fallen in love, pleased the Cardinal to thatdegree that the Marshal perceived it before he set out for the army, andrallied his wife in such a manner that she immediately found he was evenmore jealous than ambitious. She was terribly afraid of him, and did notlove the Cardinal, who, by marrying her to his cousin, had lessened hisown family, of which he was extremely fond. Besides, the Cardinal'sinfirmities made him look a great deal older than he was. And though allhis other actions had no tincture of pedantry, yet in his amorousintrigues he had the most of it in the world. I had a detail of all thesteps he had made therein, which were extremely ridiculous. Butcontinuing his solicitation, and carrying her to his country seat atRuel,--[The Cardinal de Richelieu's seat, three leagues from Paris.]--where he kept her a considerable time, I guessed that the lady had notbrains enough to resist the splendour of Court favour, and that herhusband's jealousy would soon give way to his interest, but, above all,to his blind side, which was an attachment to the Court not to beequalled. When I was in the hottest pursuit of this passion I proposedto myself the most exquisite pleasures in triumphing over the Cardinal deRichelieu in this fair field of battle; but on a sudden I had themortification to hear the whole family was changed. The husband allowedhis wife to go to Ruel as often as she pleased, and her behaviour towardsme I suspected to be false and treacherous. In short, Madame deGuemenee's anger, for a reason I hinted before, my jealousy of Madame deLa Meilleraye, and an aversion to my own profession, all joined togetherin a fatal moment and were near producing one of the greatest and mostfamous events of our age.

La Rochepot, my first cousin and dear friend, was a domestic of the lateDuc d'Orleans,--[Gaston Jean Baptists de France, born 1608, and died atBlois, 1660.]--and his great confidant. He mortally hated the Cardinalde Richelieu, who had persecuted his mother, and had her hung up ineffigy, and kept his father still a prisoner in the Bastille, and nowrefused the son a regiment, though Marechal de La Meilleraye, who veryhighly esteemed him for his courage, interceded for the favour. You mayimagine that when we came together we did not forget the Cardinal.

I being crossed in my designs, as I told you, and as full of resentmentas La Rochepot was for the affronts put upon his person and family, wechimed in our thoughts and resolutions, which were, dexterously to managethe weakness of the Duc d'Orleans and to put that in execution which theboldness of his domestics had almost effected at Corbie.

The Duc d'Orleans was appointed General, and the Comte de SoissonsLieutenant-General of the King's forces in Picardy, but neither of themstood well with the Cardinal, who gave them those posts only because thesituation of affairs was such that he could not help it. L'Epinai,Montresor, and La Rochepot made use of all the arguments they could thinkof to raise jealousies and fears in the Duc d'Orleans, and to inspire himwith resolution and courage to rid himself of the Cardinal. Otherslaboured to persuade the Comte de Soissons to relish the same proposal,but though resolved upon, it was never put into execution. For they hadthe Cardinal in their power at Amiens, but did him no harm. For thisevery one blamed the Count's companion, but I could never yet learn thetrue cause; only this is certain, that they were no sooner come to Paristhan they were all seized with a panic, and retired, some one way, someanother.

The Comte de Guiche, since Marechal de Grammont, and M. de Chavigni,Secretary of State and the Cardinal's most intimate favourite, were sentby the King to Blois. Here they frightened the Duc d'Orleans and madehim return to Paris, where he was more afraid than ever; for such of hisdomestics as were not gained by the Court made use of his pusillanimoustemper, and represented to him the necessity he was under to provide forhis own, or rather their, security. La Rochepot and myself endeavouredto heighten his fears as much as possible, in order to precipitate himinto our measures. The term sounds odd, but it is the most expressive Icould find of a character like the Duke's. He weighed everything, butfixed on nothing; and if by chance he was inclined to do one thing morethan another, he would never execute it without being pushed or forcedinto it.

La Rochepot did all he could to fix him, but finding that the Duke wasalways for delays, and for perplexing all expedients with groundlessfears of invincible difficulties, he fell upon an expedient verydangerous to all appearance, but, as it usually happens in extraordinarycases, much less so than at first view.

Cardinal de Richelieu having to stand godfather at the baptism ofMademoiselle, La Rochepot's proposal was to continue to show the Duke thenecessity he lay under still to get rid of the Cardinal, without sayingmuch of the particulars, for fear of hazarding the secret, but only toentertain him with the general proposal of that affair, thereby to makehim the better in love with the measures when proposed; and that theymight, at a proper time and place, tell him they had concealed the detailto the execution from his Highness upon no other account but that theyhad experienced on several occasions that there was no other way ofserving his Highness, as he himself had told La Rochepot several times;that nothing, therefore, remained but to get some brave fellows fit forsuch a resolute enterprise, and to hold post-horses ready upon the roadof Sedan under some other pretext, and to so execute the design in thepresence and in the name of his Royal Highness upon the day of theintended solemnity, that his Highness should cheerfully own it when itwas done, and that then we would carry him off by those horses to Sedan.Meanwhile the distraction of the inferior ministers and the joy of theKing to see himself delivered from a tyrant would dispose the Courtrather to invite than to pursue him. This was La Rochepot's scheme, andit seemed exceedingly plausible.

La Rochepot and I had, it may be, blamed the inactivity of the Ducd'Orleans and the Comte de Soissons in the affair of Amiens a hundredtimes; yet, no sooner was the scheme sufficiently matured for execution,the idea of which I had raised in the memory of La Rochepot, than my mindwas seized with I know not what fear; I took it then for a scruple ofconscience,--I cannot tell whether it was in truth so or not, but, inshort, the thought of killing a priest and a cardinal deeply affected mymind. La Rochepot laughed at my scruples, and bantered me thus: "Whenyou are in the field of battle I warrant you will not beat up the enemy'squarters for fear of assassinating men in their sleep." I was ashamed ofmy scruples, and again hugged the crime, which I looked upon assanctified by the examples of great men, and justified and honoured bythe mighty danger that attended its execution. We renewed ourconsultations, engaged some accomplices, took all the necessaryprecautions, and resolved upon the execution. The danger was indeed verygreat, but we might reasonably hope to come off well enough; for theDuke's guard, which was within, would not have failed to come to ourassistance against that of the Cardinal's, which was without. But hisfortune, and not his guards, delivered him from the snare; for eitherMademoiselle or himself, I forget which, fell suddenly ill, and theceremony was put off to another time, so that we lost our opportunity.The Duke returned to Blois, and the Marquis de Boissi protested he wouldnever betray us, but that he would be no longer concerned, because he hadjust received some favour or other from the Cardinal's own hands.

I confess that this enterprise, which, had it succeeded, would havecrowned us with glory, never fully pleased me. I was not so scrupulousin the committing of two other transgressions against the rules ofmorality, as you may have before observed; but I wish, with all my heart,I had never been concerned in this. Ancient Rome, indeed, would havecounted it honourable; but it is not in this respect that I honour thememory of old Rome.

There is commonly a great deal of folly in conspiracies; but afterwardsthere is nothing tends so, much to make men wise, at least for some time.For, as the danger in things of this nature continues, even after theopportunities for doing them are over, men are from that instant moreprudent and circumspect.

Having thus missed our blow, the Comte de La Rochepot and the rest ofthem retired to their several seats in the country; but my engagementsdetained me at Paris, where I was so retired that I spent all my time inmy study; and if ever I was seen abroad, it was with all the reserve of apious ecclesiastic; we were all so true to one another in keeping thisadventure secret, that it never got the least wind while the Cardinallived, who was a minister that had the best intelligence in the world;but after his death it was discovered by the imprudence of Tret andEtourville. I call it imprudence, for what greater weakness can men beguilty of than to declare themselves to have been capable of what isdangerous in the first instance?

To return to the history of the Comte de Soissons, I observed before thathe had retired to Sedan for safety, which he could not expect at Court.He wrote to the King, assuring his Majesty of his fidelity, and thatwhile he stayed in that place he would undertake nothing prejudicial tohis service. He was most mindful of his promise; was not to be biassedby all the offers of Spain or the Empire, but rejected with indignationthe overtures of Saint-Ibal and of Bardouville, who would have persuadedhim to take up arms. Campion, one of his domestics, whom he had left atParis to mind his affairs at Court, told me these particulars by theCount's express orders, and I still remember this passage in one of hisletters to Campion: "The men you know are very urgent with me to treatwith the enemy, and accuse me of weakness because I fear the examples ofCharles de Bourbon and Robert d'Artois." He was ordered to show me thisletter and desire my opinion thereupon. I took my pen, and, at a littledistance from the answer he had already begun, I wrote these words:

"And I do accuse them of folly." The reasons upon which my opinion wasgrounded were these: The Count was courageous in the highest degree ofwhat is commonly called valour, and had a more than ordinary share inthat boldness of mind which we call resolution. The first is common andto be frequently met with among the vulgar, but the second is rarer thancan be imagined, and yet abundantly more necessary for great enterprises;and is there a greater in the world than heading a party? The command ofan army is without comparison of less intricacy, for there are wheelswithin wheels necessary for governing the State, but then they are notnear so brittle and delicate. In a word, I am of opinion there aregreater qualities necessary to make a good head of a party than to makean emperor who is to govern the whole world, and that resolution ought torun parallel with judgment,--I say, with heroic judgment, which is ableto distinguish the extraordinary from what we call the impossible.

The Count had not one grain of this discerning faculty, which is butseldom to be met with in the sublimest genius. His character was mean toa degree, and consequently susceptible of unreasonable jealousies anddistrusts, which of all characters is the most opposite to that of a goodpartisan, who is indispensably obliged in many cases to suppress, and inall to conceal, the best-grounded suspicions.

This was the reason I could not be of the opinion of those who were forengaging the Count in a civil war; and Varicarville, who was the man ofthe best sense and temper of all the persons of quality he had about him,told me since that when be saw what I wrote in Campion's letter the day Iset out for Italy, he very well knew by what motives I was, against myinclination, persuaded into this opinion.

The Count held out all this year and the next against every solicitationof the Spaniards and the importunities of his own friends, much more bythe wise counsels of Varicarville than by the force of his ownresolution; but nothing could secure him from the teasings of theCardinal de Richelieu, who poured into his ears every day in the King'sname his many dismal discoveries and prognostications. For fear of beingtedious I shall only tell you in one word that the Cardinal, contrary tohis own interest, hurried the Count into a civil war, by such arts ofchicanery as those who are fortune's favourites never fail to play uponthe unfortunate.

The minds of people began now to be more embittered than ever. I wassent for by the Count to Sedan to tell him the state of Paris. Theaccount I gave him could not but be very agreeable; for I told him thevery truth: that he was universally beloved, honoured, and adored in thatcity, and his enemy dreaded and abhorred. The Duc de Bouillon, who wasurgent for war, be the consequence what it would, improved upon theseadvantages, and made them look more plausible, but Varicarville stronglyopposed him.

I thought myself too young to declare my opinion; but, being pressed todo so by his Highness, I took the liberty to tell him that a Prince ofthe blood ought to engage himself in a civil war rather than suffer anydiminution of his reputation or dignity, yet that nothing but these twocases could justly oblige him to it, because he hazards both by acommotion whenever the one or the other consideration does not make itnecessary; that I thought his Highness far from being under any suchnecessity; that his retreat to Sedan secured him from the indignity hemust have submitted to, among others, of taking the left hand, even inthe Cardinal's own house; that, in the meantime, the popular hatred ofthe Cardinal gained his Highness the greater share of the public favour,which is always much better secured by inaction than action, because theglory of action depends upon success, for which no one can answer;whereas inaction is sure to be commended as being founded upon the hatredwhich the public will always bear to the minister. That, therefore, Ishould think it would be more glorious for his Highness, in the view ofthe world, to support himself by his own weight, that is, by the merit ofhis virtue, against the artifices of so powerful a minister as theCardinal de Richelieu,--I say, more glorious to support himself by a wiseand regular conduct than to kindle the fire of war, the flagrantconsequences whereof no man is able to foresee; that it was true that theminister was universally cursed, but that I could not yet see that thepeople's minds were exasperated enough for any considerable revolution;that the Cardinal was in a declining state of health, and if he shouldnot die this time, his Highness would have the opportunity of showing theKing and the public that though, by his own personal authority and hisimportant post at Sedan, he was in a capacity to do himself justice, hesacrificed his own resentments to the welfare and quiet of the State; andthat if the Cardinal should recover his health, he would not fail, byadditional acts of tyranny and oppression, to draw upon himself theredoubled execrations of the people, which would ripen, their murmuringsand discontents into a universal revolution.

This is the substance of what I said to the Count, and he seemed to besomewhat affected by it. But the Duc de Bouillon was enraged, and toldme, by way of banter, "Your blood is very cold for a gentleman of yourage." To which I replied in these very words: "All the Count's servantsare so much obliged to you, monsieur, that they ought to bear everythingfrom you; but were it not for this consideration alone, I should thinkthat your bastions would not be always strong enough to protect you."The Duke soon came to himself, and treated me with all the civilitiesimaginable, such as laid a foundation for our future friendship.I stayed two days longer at Sedan, during which the Count changed hismind five different times, as I was told by M. Saint-Ibal, who saidlittle was to be expected from a man of his humour. At last, however,the Duc de Bouillon won him over. I was charged to do all I could toconvince the people of Paris, had an order to take up money and to lay itout for this purpose, and I returned from Sedan with letters more thanenough to have hanged two hundred men.

As I had faithfully set the Count's true interest before him, anddissuaded him from undertaking an affair of which he was by no meanscapable, I thought it high time to think of my own affairs. I hated myprofession now more than ever; I was at first hurried into it by theinfatuation of my kindred. My destiny had bound me down to it by thechains both of duty and pleasure, so that I could see no possibility toset myself free. I was upwards of twenty-five years of age, and I saw itwas now too late to begin to carry a musket; but that which tortured memost of all was this fatal reflection, that I had spent so much of mytime in too eager a pursuit of pleasure, and thereby riveted my ownchains; so that it looked as if fate was resolved to fasten me to theChurch, whether I would or no. You may imagine with what satisfactionsuch thoughts as these were accompanied, for this confusion of affairsgave me hopes of getting loose from my profession with uncommon honourand reputation. I thought of ways to distinguish myself, pursued themvery diligently, and you will allow that nothing but destiny broke mymeasures.

The Marechaux de Vitri and Bassompierre, the Comte de Cremail, M. duFargis, and M. du Coudrai Montpensier were then prisoners in the Bastilleupon different counts. But, as length of time makes confinement lessirksome, they were treated very civilly, and indulged with a great shareof freedom. Their friends came to see them, and sometimes dined withthem. By means of M. du Fargis, who had married my aunt, I gotacquainted with the rest, and by conversing with them discovered veryremarkable emotions in some of them, upon which I could not helpreflecting. The Marechal de Vitri was a gentleman of mean parts, butbold, even to rashness, and his having been formerly employed to kill theMarechal d'Ancre had given him in the common vogue, though I thinkunjustly, the air of a man of business and expedition. He appeared to meenraged against the Cardinal, and I concluded he might do service in thepresent juncture, but did not address myself directly to him, and thoughtit the wisest way first to sift the Comte de Cremail, who was a man ofsound sense, and could influence the Marechal de Vitri as he pleased.He apprehended me at half a word, and immediately asked me if I had mademyself known to any of the prisoners. I answered, readily:

"No, monsieur; and I will tell you my reasons in a very few words.Bassompierre is a tattler; I expect to do nothing with the Marechal deVitri but by your means. I suspect the honesty of Du Coudrai, and as formy uncle, Du Fargis, he is a gallant man, but has no headpiece."

"Whom, then, do you confide in at Paris?" said the Comte de Cremail.

"I dare trust no man living," said I, "but yourself."

"It is very well," said he, briskly; "you are the man for me. I am aboveeighty years old, and you but twenty-five; I will qualify your heat, andyou my chilliness."

We went upon business, drew up our plan, and at parting he said thesevery words: "Let me alone one week, and after that I will tell you moreof my mind, for I hope to convince the Cardinal that I am good forsomething more than writing the "Jeu de l'Inconnu."

You must know that the "Jeu de l'Inconnu" was a book, indeed, very illwritten, which the Comte de Cremail had formerly published, and which theCardinal had grossly ridiculed. You will be surprised, without doubt,that I should think of prisoners for an affair of this importance, butthe nature of it was such that it could not be put into better hands, asyou will see by and by.

A week after, going to visit the prisoners, and Cremail and myself beingaccidentally left alone, we took a walk upon the terrace, where, after athousand thanks for the confidence I had put in him, and as manyprotestations of his readiness to serve the Comte de Soissons, he spokethus: "There is nothing but the thrust of a sword or the city of Paristhat can rid us of the Cardinal. Had I been at the enterprise of Amiens,I think I should not have missed my blow, as those gentlemen did. I amfor that of Paris; it cannot miscarry; I have considered it well. Seehere what additions I have made to our plan." And thereupon he put intomy hand a paper, in substance as follows: that he had conferred with theMarechal de Vitri, who was as well disposed as anybody in the world toserve the Count; that they would both answer for the Bastille, where allthe garrison was in their interest; that they were likewise sure of thearsenal; and that they would also declare themselves as soon as the Counthad gained a battle, on condition that I made it appear beforehand, as Ihad told him (the Comte de Cremail), that they should be supported by aconsiderable number of officers, colonels of Paris, etc. For the rest,this paper contained many particular observations on the conduct of theundertaking, and many cautions relating to the behaviour to be observedby the Count. That which surprised me most of all was to see how fullypersuaded these gentlemen were of carrying their point with ease.

Though it came into my head to propose this project to the persons in theBastille, yet nothing but the perfect knowledge I had of theirdisposition and inclination could have persuaded me that it waspracticable. And I confess, upon perusal of the plan prepared by M. deCremail, a man of great experience and excellent sense, I was astonishedto find a few prisoners disposing of the Bastille with the same freedomas the Governor, the greatest authority in the place.

As all extraordinary circumstances are of wonderful weight in popularrevolutions, I considered that this project, which was even ripe forexecution, would have an admirable effect in the city. And as nothinganimates and supports commotions more than the ridiculing of thoseagainst whom they are raised, I knew it would be very easy for us toexpose the conduct of a minister who had tamely suffered prisoners tohamper him, as one may say, with their chains. I lost no time;afterwards I opened myself to M. d'Estampes, President of the GreatCouncil, and to M. l'Ecuyer, President of the Chamber of Accounts, bothcolonels, and in great repute among the citizens, and I found them everyway answering the character I had of them from the Count; that is, veryzealous for his interest, and fully persuaded that the insurrection wasnot only practicable, but very easy. Pray observe that these twogentlemen, who made no great figure, even in their own profession, were,perhaps, two of the most peaceable persons in the kingdom. But there aresome fires which burn all before them. The main thing is to know andseize the critical moment.

The Count had charged me to disclose myself to none in Paris besidesthese two, but I ventured to add two more: Parmentier, substitute to theAttorney-General; and his brother-in-law, Epinai, auditor of the Chamberof Accounts, who was the man of the greatest credit, though but alieutenant, and the other a captain. Parmentier, who, both by his witand courage, was as capable of a great action as any man I ever knew,promised me that he would answer for Brigalier, councillor in the Courtof Aids, captain in his quarter, and very powerful among the people, buttold me at the same time that he must not know a word of the matter,because he was a mere rattle, not to be trusted with a secret.

The Count made me a remittance of 12,000 crowns, which I carried to myaunt De Maignelai, telling her that it was a restitution made by one ofmy dying friends, who made me trustee of it upon condition that I shoulddistribute it among decayed families who were ashamed to make theirnecessities known, and that I had taken an oath to distribute it myself,persuant to the desire of the testator, but that I was at a loss to findout fit objects for my charity; and therefore I desired her to take thecare of it upon her. The good woman was perfectly transported, and saidshe would do it with all her heart; but because I had sworn to make thedistribution myself, she insisted upon it that I must be present, notonly for the sake of my promise, but to accustom myself to do acts ofcharity. This was the very thing I aimed at,--an opportunity of knowingall the poor of Paris. Therefore I suffered myself to be carried everyday by my aunt into the outskirts, to visit the poor in their garrets,and I met very often in her house people who were very well clad, andmany whom I once knew, that came for private charity. My good auntcharged them always to pray to God for her nephew, who was the hand thatGod had been pleased to make use of for this good work. Judge you of theinfluence this gave me over the populace, who are without comparison themost considerable in all public disturbances. For the rich never comeinto such measures unless they are forced, and beggars do more harm thangood, because it is known that they aim at plunder; those, therefore, whoare capable of doing most service are such as are not reduced to commonbeggary, yet so straitened in their circumstances as to wish for nothingmore than a general change of affairs in order to repair their brokenfortunes. I made myself acquainted with people of this rank for thecourse of four months with uncommon application, so that there was hardlya child in the chimney-corner but I gratified with some small token. Icalled them by their familiar names. My aunt, who always made it herbusiness to go from house to house to relieve the poor, was a cloak forall. I also played the hypocrite, and frequented the conferences ofSaint Lazarus.

Varicarville and Beauregarde, my correspondents at Sedan, assured me thatthe Comte de Soissons was as well inclined as one could wish, and that hehad not wavered since he had formed his last resolution. Varicarvillesaid that we had formerly done him horrible injustice, and that they werenow even obliged to restrain him, because he seemed to be too fond of thecounsels of Spain and the Empire. Please to observe that these twoCourts, which had made incredible solicitations to him while he wavered,began, as soon as his purpose was fixed, to draw back,--a fatality due tothe phlegmatic temper of the Spaniard, dignified by the name of prudence,joined to the astute politics of the house of Austria. You may observeat the same time that the Count, who had continued firm and unshakenthree months together, changed his mind as soon as his enemies hadgranted what he asked; which exactly comes up to the character of anirresolute man, who is always most unsteady the nearer the work comes toits conclusion. I heard of this convulsion, as one may call it, by anexpress from Varicarville, and took post the same night for Sedan,arriving there an hour after Aretonville, an agent despatched from theCount's brother in-law, M. de Longueville.--[Henri d'Orleans, the secondof that name, died 1663.]--He came with some plausible but deceitfulterms of accommodation which we all agreed to oppose. Those who had beenalways with the Count pressed him strongly with the remembrance of whathe himself thought or said was necessary to be done ever since the warhad been resolved on. Saint-Ibal, who had been negotiating for him atBrussels, pressed him with his engagements, advances, and solicitations,insisted on the steps I had, by his order, already taken in Paris, on thepromises made to De Vitri and Cremail, and on the secret committed to twopersons by his own command, and to four others for his service and withhis consent. Our arguments, considering his engagements, were very justand clear. We carried our point with much ado after a conflict of fourdays. Aretonville was sent back with a very smart answer. M. de Guise,who had joined the Count, and was a well-wisher to a rupture, went toLiege to order the levies, Varicarville and I returned to Paris, but Idid not care to tell my fellow conspirators of the irresolution of ourprincipal. Some symptoms of it appeared afterwards, but they very soonvanished.

Being assured that the Spaniards had everything in readiness, I went forthe last time to Sedan to take my final instructions. There I foundMeternic, colonel of one of the oldest regiments of the Empire,despatched by General Lamboy, who had advanced with a gallant army underhis command, composed for the most part of veteran troops. The Colonelassured the Count that he was ordered to obey his commands in everything,and to give battle to the Marechal de Chatillon, who commanded the armyof France upon the Meuse. As the undertaking at Paris depended entirelyon the success of such a battle, the Count thought it fitting that Ishould go along with Meternic to Givet, where I found the army in a verygood condition. Then I returned to Paris, and gave an account of everyparticular to the Marechal de Pitri, who drew up the order for theenterprise. The whole city of Paris seemed so disposed for aninsurrection that we thought ourselves sure of success. The secret waskept even to a miracle. The Count gave the enemy battle and won it. Younow believe, without doubt, the day was our own. Far from it; for theCount was killed in the very crisis of the victory, and in the midst ofhis own men; but how and by whom no soul could ever tell.

You may guess what a condition I was in when I heard this news; M. deCremail, the wisest of us all, thought of nothing else now but how toconceal the secret, which, though known to only six in all Paris, wasknown to too great a number; but the greatest danger of discovery wasfrom the people of Sedan, who, being out of the kingdom, were not afraidof punishment. Nevertheless, everybody privy to it religiously kept itsecret, and stood their ground, which, with another accident I shallmention hereafter, has made me often think, and say too, that secrecy isnot so rare a thing as we imagine with men versed in matters of State.

The Count's death settled me in my profession, for I saw no great thingsto be done, and I found myself too old to leave it for anything trifling.Besides, Cardinal de Richelieu's health was declining, and I alreadybegan to think myself Archbishop of Paris. I resolved that for thefuture I would devote myself to my profession. Madame de Guemenee hadretired to Port Royal, her country-seat. M. d'Andilly had got her fromme. She neither powdered nor curled her hair any longer, and haddismissed me solemnly with all the formalities required from a sincerepenitent. I discovered, by means of a valet de chambre, that, captain---- of the Marshal's Guards, had as free access to Meilleraye's lady asmyself. See what it is to be a saint! The truth is, I grew much moreregular,--at least affected to be thought so,--led a retired life, stuckto my profession, studied hard, and got acquainted with all who werefamous either for learning or piety. I converted my house almost into anacademy, but took care not to erect the academy into a rigid tribunal. Ibegan to be pretty free with the canons and curates, whom I found ofcourse at my uncle's house. I did not act the devotee, because I couldnot be sure how long I should be able to play the counterfeit, but I hada high esteem for devout people, which with such is the main article ofreligion. I suited my pleasures to my practice, and, finding I could notlive without some amorous intrigue, I managed an amour with Madame dePommereux, a young coquette, who had so many sparks, not only in herhouse but at her devotions, that the apparent business of others was acover for mine, which was, at least, some time afterwards, more to thepurpose. When I had succeeded, I became a man in such request amongthose of my profession that the devotees themselves used to say of mewith M. Vincent, "Though I had not piety enough, yet I was not far fromthe kingdom of heaven."

Fortune favoured me more than usual at this time. I was at the house ofMadame de Rambure, a notable and learned Huguenot, where I met withMestrezat, the famous minister of Charento. To satisfy her curiosity sheengaged us in a dispute; we had nine different disputations. TheMarechal de la Forde and M. de Turenne were present at some of them, anda gentleman of Poitou, who was at all of them, became my proselyte. As Iwas then but twenty-six years of age, this made a great deal of noise,and among other effects, was productive of one that had not the leastconnection with its cause, which I shall mention after I have donejustice to a civility I received from my antagonist in one of theconferences. I had the advantage of him in the fifth meeting, relatingto the spiritual vocation; but in the sixth, treating of the Pope'sauthority, I was confounded, because, to avoid embroiling myself with theCourt of Rome, I answered him on principles which are not so easy to bemaintained as those of the Sorbonne. My opponent perceived the concern Iwas under, and generously forebore to urge such passages as would haveobliged me to explain myself in a manner disagreeable to the Pope'sNuncio. I thought it extremely obliging, and as we were going outthanked him in the presence of M. de Turenne; to which he answered, verycivilly, that it would have been a piece of injustice to hinder the Abbede Retz from being made a cardinal. This was such complaisance as youare not to expect from every Geneva pedant. I told you before that thisconference produced one effect very different from its cause, and it isthis: Madame de Vendome, of whom you have heard, without doubt, took sucha fancy to me ever after, that a mother could not have been more tender.She had been at the conference too, though I am very well assured sheunderstood nothing of the matter; but the favourable opinion she had ofme was owing to the Bishop of Lisieux, her spiritual director, who,finding I was disposed to follow my profession, which out of his greatlove to me he most passionately desired, made it his business to magnifythe few good qualities I was master of; and I am thoroughly persuadedthat what applause I had then in the world was chiefly owing to hisencouragement, for there was not a man in France whose approbation couldgive so much honour. His sermons had advanced him from a very mean andforeign extraction (which was Flemish) to the episcopal dignity, which headorned with solid and unaffected piety. His disinterestedness was farbeyond that of the hermits or anchorites. He had the courage of SaintAmbrose, and at Court and in the presence of the King he so maintainedhis usual freedom that the Cardinal de Richelieu, who had been hisscholar in divinity, both reverenced and feared him. This good man hadthat abundant kindness for me that he read me lectures thrice a week uponSaint Paul's Epistles, and he designed also the conversion of M. deTurenne and to give me the honour of it.

M. de Turenne had a great respect for him, whereof he gave him very,distinguishing marks. The Comte de Brion, whom, I believe, you mayremember under the title of Duc d'Amville, was deeply in love withMademoiselle de Vendome, since Madame de Nemours; and, besides, he was agreat favourite of M. de Turenne, who, to do him a pleasure and to givehim the more opportunities to see Mademoiselle de Vendome, affected to bea great admirer of the Bishop of Lisieux and to hear his exhortationswith a world of attention. The Comte de Brion, who had twice been aCapuchin, and whose life was a continual medley of sin and devotion,pretended likewise to be much interested in M. de Turenne's conversion,and was present at all the conferences held at Mademoiselle de Vendome'sapartment. De Brion had very little wit, but was a clever talker, andhad a great deal of assurance, which not very seldom supplies the room ofgood sense. This and the behaviour of M. de Turenne, together with theindolence of Mademoiselle de Vendome, made me think all was fair, so thatI never suspected an amour at the bottom.

The Bishop of Lisieux being a great admirer of Corneille's writings, andmaking no scruple to see a good comedy, provided it was in the countryamong a few friends, the late Madame de Choisy proposed to entertain himwith one at Saint Cloud. Accordingly Madame took with her Madame andMademoiselle de Vendome, M. de Turenne, M. de Brion, Voiture, and myself.De Brion took care of the comedy and violins, and I looked after a goodcollation. We went to the Archbishop's house at Saint Cloud, where thecomedians did not arrive till very late at night. M. de Lisieux admiredthe violins, and Madame de Vendome was hugely diverted to see herdaughter dance alone. In short, we did not set out till peep of day (itbeing summer-time), and the days at the longest, and were got no furtherthan the bottom of the Descent of Bonshommes, when all on a sudden thecoach stopped. I, being next the door opposite to Mademoiselle deVendome, bade the coachman drive on. He answered, as plain as he couldspeak for his fright, "What! would you have me drive over all thesedevils here?" I put my head out of the coach, but, being short-sightedfrom my youth, saw nothing at all. Madame de Choisy, who was at theother door with M. de Turenne, was the first in the coach who found outthe cause of the coachman's fright. I say in the coach, for five or sixlackeys behind it were already crying "Jesu Maria" and quaking with fear.

Madame de Choisy cried out, upon which M. de Turenne threw himself out ofthe coach, and I, thinking we were beset by highwaymen, leaped out on theother side, took one of the footmen's hangers, drew it, and went to theother aide to join M. de Turenne, whom I found with his eyes fixed onsomething, but what I could not see. I asked him what it was, upon whichhe pulled me by the sleeve, and said, with a low voice, "I will tell you,but we must not frighten the ladies," who, by this time, screamed mostfearfully. Voiture began his Oremus, and prayed heartily. You, Isuppose, knew Madame de Choisy's shrill tone; Mademoiselle de Vendome wascounting her beads; Madame de Vendome would fain have confessed her sinsto the Bishop of Lisieux, who said to her, "Daughter, be of good cheer;you are in the hands of God." At the same instant, the Comte do Brionand all the lackeys were upon their knees very devoutly singing theLitany of the Virgin Mary.

M. de Turenne drew his sword, and said to me, with the calm andundisturbed air he commonly puts on when he calls for his dinner, orgives battle, "Come, let us go and see who they are."

"Whom should we see?" said I, for I believed we had all lost our senses.

He answered, "I verily think they are devils."

When we had advanced five or six steps I began to see something which Ithought looked like a long procession of black phantoms. I wasfrightened at first, because of the sudden reflection that I had oftenwished to see a spirit, and that now, perhaps, I should pay for myincredulity, or rather curiosity. M. de Turenne was all the while calmand resolute. I made two or three leaps towards the procession, uponwhich the company in the coach, thinking we were fighting with all thedevils, cried out most terribly; yet it is a question whether our companywas in a greater fright than the imaginary devils that put us into it,who, it seems, were a parcel of barefooted reformed Augustine friars,otherwise called the Black Capuchins, who, seeing two men advancingtowards them with drawn swords, one of them, detached from thefraternity, cried out, "Gentlemen, we are poor, harmless friars, onlycome to bathe in this river for our healths." M. de Turenne and I wentback to the coach ready to die with laughing at this adventure.

Upon the whole we could not help making this reflection, that what weread in the lives of most people is false. We were both grosslymistaken, I, for supposing him to be frightened; he, for thinking me calmand undisturbed. Who, therefore, can write truth better than the man whohas experienced it? The President de Thou is very just in his remarkwhen he says that "There is no true history extant, nor can be everexpected unless written by honest men who are not afraid or ashamed totell the truth of themselves." I do not pretend to make any merit of mysincerity in this case, for I feel so great a satisfaction in unfoldingmy very heart and soul to you, that the pleasure is even more prevalentthan reason with me in the religious regard I have to the exactness of myhistory.

Mademoiselle de Vendome had ever after an inconceivable contempt for thepoor Comte de Brion, who in this ridiculous adventure had disclosed aweakness never before imagined; and as soon as we were got into the coachshe bantered him, and said, particularly to me:

"I fancy I must be Henri IV.'s granddaughter by the esteem I have forvalour. There's nothing can frighten you, since you were so undaunted onthis extraordinary occasion."

I told her I was afraid, but being not so devout as M. de Brion, my fearsdid not turn to litanies.

"You feared not," said she, "and I fancy you do not believe there aredevils, for M. de Turenne, who is very brave, was much surprised, and didnot march on so briskly as you."

I confess the distinction pleased me mightily and made me think ofventuring some compliments. I then said to her, "One may believe thereis a devil and yet not fear him; there are things in the world moreterrible."

"And what are they?" said she.

"They are so strong," said I, "that one dare not so much as name them."

She interpreted my meaning rightly, as she told me since, though sheseemed at that time not to understand me.

Mademoiselle was not what they call a great beauty, yet she was veryhandsome, and I was complimented for saying of her and of Mademoiselle deGuise that they were beauties of quality who convinced the beholders atfirst sight that they were born Princesses. Mademoiselle de Vendome hadno great share of wit, but her folly lay as yet concealed; her air wasgrave, tinctured with stateliness, not the effect of good sense, but theconsequence of a languid constitution, which sort of gravity often coversa multitude of defects. In the main, take her altogether, she was reallyamiable.

Let me beseech you, madame, with all submission, to call now to mind thecommands you were pleased to honour me with a little before yourdeparture from Paris, that I should give you a precise account of everycircumstance and accident of my life, and conceal nothing. You see, bywhat I have already related, that my ecclesiastical occupations werediversified and relieved, though not disfigured, by other employments ofa more diverting nature. I observed a decorum in all my actions, andwhere I happened to make a false step some good fortune or other alwaysretrieved it. All the ecclesiastics of the diocese wished to see mesucceed my uncle in the archbishopric of Paris, but Cardinal de Richelieuwas of another mind; he hated my family, and most of all my person, forthe reasons already mentioned, and was still more exasperated for thesetwo which follow.

I once told the late President de Mesmes what seems now to me veryprobable, though it is the reverse of what I told you some time ago,that I knew a person who had few or no failings but what were either theeffect or cause of some good qualities. I then said, on the contrary,to M. de Mesmes, that Cardinal de Richelieu had not one great quality butwhat was the effect or cause of some greater imperfection. This, whichwas only 'inter nos', was carried to the Cardinal, I do not know by whom,under my name. You may judge of the consequences. Another thing thatangered him was because I visited the President Barillon, then prisonerat Amboise, concerning remonstrances made to the Parliament, and that Ishould do it at a juncture which made my journey the more noticeable.Two miserable hermits and false coiners, who had some secretcorrespondence with M. de Vendome, did, upon some discontent or other,accuse him very falsely of having proposed to them to assassinate theCardinal, and to give the more weight to their depositions they named allthose they thought notorious in that country; Montresor and M. Barillonwere of the number. Early notice of this being given me, the great loveI had for the President Barillon made me take post that night to acquainthim with his danger and get him away from Amboise, which was veryfeasible; but he, insisting upon his innocence, rejected my proposals,defied both the accusers and their accusations, and was resolved tocontinue in prison. This journey of mine gave a handle to the Cardinalto tell the Bishop of Lisieux that I was a cordial friend to all hisenemies.

"True enough," said the Bishop; "nevertheless you ought to esteem him;you have no reason to complain of him, because those men whom you meanwere all his true friends before they became your enemies."

"If it be so," replied the Cardinal, "then I am very much misinformed."

The Bishop at this juncture did me all the kind offices imaginable, andif the Cardinal had lived he would undoubtedly have restored me to hisfavour; for his Eminence was very well disposed, especially when theBishop assured him that, though I knew myself ruined at Court to allintents and purposes, yet I would never come into the measures of M. leGrand.--[M. de Cinq-Mars, Henri Coeffier, otherwise called Ruze d'Effial,Master of the Horse of France; he was beheaded September 12, 1642.]--I was indeed importuned by my friend M. de Thou to join in thatenterprise, but I saw the weakness of their foundation, as the event hasshown, and therefore rejected their proposals.

The Cardinal de Richelieu died in 1642, before the good Bishop had mademy peace with him, and so I remained among those who had renderedthemselves obnoxious to the Ministry. At first this character was veryprejudicial to my interest. Although the King was overjoyed at hisdeath, yet he carefully observed all the appearances of respect for hisdeceased minister, confirmed all his legacies, cared for his family, keptall his creatures in the Ministry, and affected to frown upon all who hadnot stood well with the Cardinal; but I was the only exception to thisgeneral rule. When the Archbishop of Paris presented me to the King, Iwas treated with such distinguishing marks of royal favour as surprisedall the Court. His Majesty talked of my studies and sermons, rallied mewith an obliging freedom, and bade me come to Court once every week. Thereasons of these extraordinary civilities were utterly unknown to usuntil the night before his death, when he told them to the Queen. Ipassed them by in silence before as having no bearing on my history, butI am obliged to insert them here because they have been, in theirconsequences, more fortunate than I seemed to have any just claim toexpect.

A short time after I left the college, my governor's valet de chambrefound, at a poor pin-maker's house, a niece of hers but fourteen yearsold, who was surprisingly beautiful. After I had seen her he bought herfor me for 150 pistoles, hired a little house for her, and placed hersister with her; when I went to see her I found her in great heaviness ofmind, which I attributed to her modesty. I next day found what was yetmore surprising and extraordinary than her beauty; she talked wisely andreligiously to me, and yet without passion. She cried only when shecould not help it. She feared her aunt to a degree that made me pityher. I admired her wit first, and then her virtue, for trial of which Ipressed her as far as was necessary, until I was even ashamed of myself.I waited till night to get her into my coach, and then carried her to myaunt De Maignelai, who put her into a convent, where she died eight orten years after, in great reputation for piety. My aunt, to whom thisyoung creature confessed that the menaces of the pin-maker had terrifiedher so much that she would have done whatsoever I wished, was so affectedwith my behaviour that she went to tell it to the Bishop of Lisieux, whotold it to the King.

This second adventure was not of the same nature, but it made as greatan impression on the King's mind. It was a duel I had with Coutenau,captain of a company of the King's Light-horse, brave, but wild, who,riding post from Paris as I was going there, made the ostler take off mysaddle and put on his. Upon my telling him I had hired the horse, hegave me a swinging box on the ear, which fetched blood. I instantly drewmy sword, and so did he. While making our first thrusts his footslipped, and his sword dropped out of his hand as he fell to the ground.I retired a little and bade him pick it up, which he did, but it was bythe point, for he presented me the handle and begged a thousand pardons.He told this little story afterwards to the King, with whom he had greatfreedom. His Majesty was pleased with it, and remembered both time andplace, as you will see hereafter.

The good reception I found at Court gave my relatives some grounds tohope that I might have the coadjutorship of Paris. At first they found agreat deal of difficulty in my uncle's narrowness of spirit, which isalways attended with fears and jealousies; but at length they prevailedupon him, and would have then carried our point, if my friends had notgiven it out, much against my judgment, that it was done by the consentof the Archbishop of Paris, and if they had not suffered the Sorbonne,the cures, and chapter to return him their thanks. This affair made toomuch noise in the world for my interest. For Cardinal Mazarin, DeNoyers, and De Chavigni thwarted me, and told his Majesty that thechapter should not be entrusted with the power of nominating their ownarchbishop. And the King was heard to say that I was yet too young.

But we met with a worse obstacle than all from M. de Noyers, Secretary ofState, one of the three favourite ministers, who passed for a religiousman, and was suspected by some to be a Jesuit in disguise. He had asecret longing for the archbishopric of Paris, which would shortly bevacant, and therefore thought it expedient to remove me from that city,where he saw I was extremely beloved, and provide me with some postsuitable to my years. He proposed to the King by his confessor tonominate me Bishop of Agde. The King readily granted the request, whichconfounded me beyond all expression. I had no mind to go to Languedoc,and yet so great are the inconveniences of a refusal that not a man hadcourage to advise me to it. I became, therefore, my own counsellor, andhaving resolved with myself what course to take, I waited upon hisMajesty, and thanked him for his gracious offer, but said I dreaded theweight of so remote a see, and that my years wanted advice, which it isdifficult to obtain in provinces so distant. I added to this otherarguments, which you may guess at. I was in this adventure also morehappy than wise. The King continued to treat me very kindly. Thiscircumstance, and the retreat of M. de Noyers, who fell into the snarethat Chavigni had laid for him, renewed my hopes of the coadjutorship ofParis. The King died about this time, in 1643. M. de Beaufort, who hadbeen always devoted to the Queen's interest, and even passed for hergallant, pretended now to govern the kingdom, of which he was not socapable as his valet de chambre. The Bishop of Beauvais, the greatestidiot you ever knew, took upon himself the character of Prime Minister,and on the first day of his administration required the Dutch to embracethe Roman Catholic religion if they desired to continue in alliance withFrance. The Queen was ashamed of this ridiculous minister, and sent forme to offer my father--[Philippe Emmanuel de Gondi, Comte de Joigni; heretired to the: Fathers of the Oratory, and became priest; died 1662,aged eighty-one.]--the place of Prime Minister; but he refusingperemptorily to leave his cell and the Fathers of the Oratory, the placewas conferred upon Cardinal Mazarin.

You may now imagine that it was no great task for me to obtain what Idesired at a time that nothing was refused, which made Feuillade say thatthe only words in the French tongue were "La Reine est si bonne."

Madame de Maignelai and the Bishop of Lisieux desired the Queen to grantme the coadjutorship of Paris, but they were repulsed, the Queen assuringthem that none should have it but my father, who kept from Court; andwould never be seen at the Louvre, except once, when the Queen told himpublicly that the King, the very night before he died, had ordered herexpressly to have it solicited for me, and that he said in the presenceof the Bishop of Lisieux that he had me always in his thoughts since theadventures of the pinmaker and Captain Coutenau. What relation had thesetrifling stories to the archbishopric of Paris? Thus we see that affairsof the greatest moment often owe their rise and success to insignificanttrifles and accidents. All the companies went to thank the Queen. Isent 16,000 crowns to Rome for my bull, with orders not to desire anyfavour, lest it should delay the despatch and give the ministers time tooppose it. I received my bull accordingly; and now you will see meascending the theatre of action, where you will find scenes not indeedworthy of yourself, but not altogether unworthy of your attention.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Assurrance often supplies the room of good senseBy the means of a hundred pistoles down, and vast promisesFalse glory and false modestyHe knew how to put a good gloss upon his failingsHe weighed everything, but fixed on nothingIs there a greater in the world than heading a party?Nothing is so subject to delusion as pietySo indiscreet as to boast of his successful amoursVerily believed he was really the man which he affected to be

MEMOIRS OF JEAN FRANCOIS PAUL de GONDI, CARDINAL DE RETZ, v2

Written by Himself

Being Historic Court Memoirs of the Great Events during the Minority ofLouis XIV. and the Administration of Cardinal Mazarin.

BOOK II.

MADAME:--I lay it down as a maxim, that men who enter the service of theState should make it their chief study to set out in the world with somenotable act which may strike the imagination of the people, and causethemselves to be discussed. Thus I preached first upon All Saints' Day,before an audience which could not but be numerous in a populous city,where it is a wonder to see the Archbishop in the pulpit. I began now tothink seriously upon my future conduct. I found the archbishopric sunkboth in its temporals and spirituals by the sordidness, negligence, andincapacity of my uncle. I foresaw infinite obstacles to itsreestablishment, but perceived that the greatest and most insuperabledifficulty lay in myself. I considered that the strictest morals arenecessarily required in a bishop. I felt myself the more obliged to bestrictly circumspect as my uncle had been very disorderly and scandalous.I knew likewise that my own corrupt inclinations would bear down allbefore them, and that all the considerations drawn from honour andconscience would prove very weak defences. At last I came to aresolution to go on in my sins, and that designedly, which without doubtis the more sinful in the eyes of God, but with regard to the world iscertainly the best policy, because he that acts thus always takes carebeforehand to cover part of his failings, and thereby to avoid thejumbling together of sin and devotion, than which nothing can be moredangerous and ridiculous in a clergyman. This was my disposition, whichwas not the most pious in the world nor yet the wickedest, for I wasfully determined to discharge all the duties of my profession faithfully,and exert my utmost to save other souls, though I took no care of my own.

The Archbishop, who was the weakest of mortals, was, nevertheless, by acommon fatality attending such men, the most vainglorious; he yieldedprecedence to every petty officer of the Crown, and yet in his own housewould not give the right-hand to any person of quality that came to himabout business. My behaviour was the reverse of his in almosteverything; I gave the right-hand to all strangers in my own house, andattended them even to their coach, for which I was commended by some formy civility and by others for my humility. I avoided appearing in publicassemblies among people of quality till I had established a reputation.When I thought I had done so, I took the opportunity of the sealing of amarriage contract to dispute my rank with M. de Guise. I had carefullystudied the laws of my diocese and got others to do it for me, and myright was indisputable in my own province. The precedence was adjudgedin my favour by a decree of the Council, and I found, by the great numberof gentlemen who then appeared for me, that to condescend to men of lowdegree is the surest way to equal those of the highest.

I dined almost every day with Cardinal Mazarin, who liked me the betterbecause I refused to engage myself in the cabal called "The Importants,"though many of the members were my dearest friends. M. de Beaufort, aman of very mean parts, was so much out of temper because the Queen hadput her confidence in Cardinal Mazarin, that, though her Majesty offeredhim favours with profusion, he would accept none, and affected to givehimself the airs of an angry lover. He held aloof from the Ducd'Orleans, insulted the late Prince, and, in order to support himselfagainst the Queen-regent, the chief minister, and all the Princes of theblood, formed a cabal of men who all died mad, and whom I never took forconjurers from the first time I knew them. Such were Beaupre,Fontrailles, Fiesque, Montresor, who had the austerity of Cato, but nothis sagacity, and M. de Bethune, who obliged M. de Beaufort to make megreat overtures, which I received very respectfully, but entered into none.I told Montresor that I was indebted to the Queen for the coadjutorship ofParis, and that that was enough to keep me from entering into anyengagement that might be disagreeable to her Majesty. Montresor said Iwas not obliged for it to the Queen, it having been ordered before by thelate King, and given me at a crisis when she was not in a condition torefuse it. I replied, "Permit me, monsieur, to forget everything thatmay diminish my gratitude, and to remember that only which may increaseit." These words were afterwards repeated to Cardinal Mazarin, who wasso pleased with me that he repeated them to the Queen.

The families of Orleans and Conde, being united by interest, made a jestof that surly look from which Beaufort's cabal were termed "TheImportants," and at the same time artfully made use of the grandappearance which Beaufort (like those who carry more sail than ballast)never failed to assume upon the most trifling occasions. His counselswere unseasonable, his meetings to no purpose, and even his huntingmatches became mysterious. In short, Beaufort was arrested at the Louvreby a captain of the Queen's Guards, and carried on the 2d of September,1643, to Vincennes. The cabal of "The Importants" was put to flight anddispersed, and it was reported over all the kingdom that they had made anattempt against the Cardinal's life, which I do not believe, because Inever saw anything in confirmation of it, though many of the domestics ofthe family of Vendome were a long time in prison upon this account.

The Marquis de Nangis, who was enraged both against the Queen andCardinal, for reasons which I shall tell you afterwards, was stronglytempted to come into this cabal a few days before Beaufort was arrested,but I dissuaded him by telling him that fashion is powerful in all theaffairs of life, but more remarkably so as to a man's being in favour ordisgrace at Court. There are certain junctures when disgrace, like fire,purifies all the bad qualities, and sets a lustre on all the good ones,and also there are times when it does not become an honest man to be outof favour at Court. I applied this to the gentlemen of the aforesaidcabal.

I must confess, to the praise of Cardinal de Richelieu, that he hadformed two vast designs worthy of a Caesar or an Alexander: that ofsuppressing the Protestants had been projected before by Cardinal deRetz, my uncle; but that of attacking the formidable house of Austria wasnever thought of by any before the Cardinal. He completed the firstdesign, and had made great progress in the latter.

That the King's death made no alteration in affairs was owing to thebravery of the Prince de Conde and the famous battle of Rocroi, in 1643,which contributed both to the peace and glory of the kingdom, and coveredthe cradle of the present King with laurels. Louis XIV.'s father, whoneither loved nor esteemed his Queen, provided him a Council, upon hisdeath-bed, for limiting the authority of the Regency, and named theCardinal Mazarin, M. Seguier, M. Bouthillier, and M. de Chavigni; butbeing all Richelieu's creatures, they were so hated by the public thatwhen the King was dead they were hissed at by all the footmen at SaintGermain, and if De Beaufort had had a grain of sense, or if De Beauvaishad not been a disgraceful bishop, or if my father had but entered intothe administration, these collateral Regents would have been undoubtedlyexpelled with ignominy, and the memory of Cardinal de Richelieu beenbranded by the Parliament with shouts of joy.

The Queen was adored much more for her troubles than for her merit. Heradmirers had never seen her but under persecution; and in persons of herrank, suffering is one of the greatest virtues. People were apt to fancythat she was patient to a degree of indolence. In a word, they expectedwonders from her; and Bautru used to say she had already worked amiracle because the most devout had forgotten her coquetry. The Ducd'Orleans, who made a show as if he would have disputed the Regency withthe Queen, was contented to be Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom. ThePrince de Conde was declared President of the Council, and the Parliamentconfirmed the Regency to the Queen without limitation. The exiles werecalled home, prisoners set at liberty, and criminals pardoned. They whohad been turned out were replaced in their respective employments, andnothing that was asked was refused. The happiness of private familiesseemed to be fully secured in the prosperity of the State. The perfectunion of the royal family settled the peace within doors; and the battleof Rocroi was such a blow to the Spanish infantry that they could notrecover in an age. They saw at the foot of the throne, where the fierceand terrible Richelieu used to thunder rather than govern, a mild andgentle successor,--[Cardinal Julius Mazarin, Minister of State, who diedat Vincennes in 1661.]--who was perfectly complacent and extremelytroubled that his dignity of Cardinal did not permit him to be as humbleto all men as he desired; and who, when he went abroad, had no otherattendants than two footmen behind his coach. Had not I, then, reasonfor saying that it did not become an honest man to be on bad terms withthe Court at that time of day?

You will wonder, no doubt, that nobody was then aware of the consequenceof imprisoning M. de Beaufort, when the prison doors were set open to allothers. This bold stroke--at a time when the Government was so mild thatits authority was hardly felt--had a very great effect. Though nothingwas more easy, as you have seen, yet it looked grand; and all acts ofthis nature are very successful because they are attended with dignitywithout any odium. That which generally draws an unaccountable odiumupon even the most necessary actions of statesmen, is that, in order tocompass them, they are commonly obliged to struggle with very greatdifficulties, which, when they are surmounted, are certain to render themobjects both of envy and hatred. When a considerable occasion offers,where there is no victory to be gained because there is no difficulty toencounter, which is very rare, it gives a lustre to the authority ofministers which is pure, innocent, and without a shadow, and not onlyestablishes it, but casts upon their administration the merit of actionswhich they have no hand in, as well as those of which they have.

When the world saw that the Cardinal had apprehended the man who hadlately brought the King back to Paris with inconceivable pride, men'simaginations were seized with an astonishing veneration. People thoughtthemselves much obliged to the Minister that some were not sent to theBastille every week; and the sweetness of his temper was sure to becommended whenever he had not an opportunity of doing them harm. It mustbe owned that he had the art of improving his good luck to the bestadvantage. He made use of all the outward appearances necessary tocreate a belief that he had been forced to take violent measures, andthat the counsels of the Duc d'Orleans and the Prince de Conde haddetermined the Queen to reject his advice; the day following he seemed tobe more moderate, civil, and frank than before; he gave free access toall; audiences were easily had, it was no more to dine with him than witha private gentleman. He had none of that grand air so common to themeaner cardinals. In short, though he was at the head of everybody, yethe managed as if he were only their companion. That which astonishes memost is that the princes and grandees of the kingdom, who, one mightexpect, would be more quick-sighted than the common people, were the mostblinded.

The Duc d'Orleans and the Prince de Conde--the latter attached to theCourt by his covetous temper--thought themselves above being rivalled;the Duke--[Henri de Bourbon, Duc d'Enghien, born 1646, died 1686. Weshall often speak of him in this history.]--was old enough to take hisrepose under the shadow of his laurels; M. de Nemours--[Charles Amadeusof Savoy, killed in a duel by M. de Beaufort, 1650.]--was but a child;M. de Guise, lately returned from Brussels, was governed by Madame dePons, and thought to govern the whole Court; M. de Schomberg complied allhis life long with the humour of those who were at the helm; M. deGrammont was a slave to them. The Parliament, being delivered from thetyranny of Richelieu, imagined the golden age was returning, being dailyassured by the Prime Minister that the Queen would not take one stepwithout them. The clergy, who are always great examples of slavishservitude themselves, preached it to others under the plausible title ofpassive obedience. Thus both clergy and laity were, in an instant,become the devotees of Mazarin.

Being ordered by my Lord Archbishop of Paris to take care of his diocesein his absence, my first business was, by the Queen's express command, tovisit the Nuns of the Conception, where, knowing that there were abovefourscore virgins, many of whom were very pretty and some coquettes, Iwas very loth to go for fear, of exposing my virtue to temptation; but Icould not be excused, so I went, and preserved my virtue, to myneighbour's edification, because for six weeks together I did not see theface of any one of the nuns, nor talked to any of them but when theirveils were down, which gave me a vast reputation for chastity.I continued to perform all the necessary functions in the diocese as faras the jealousy of my uncle would give me leave, and, forasmuch as he wasgenerally so peevish that it was a very hard matter to please him,I at length chose to sit still and do nothing. Thus I made the best useimaginable of my uncle's ill-nature, being sure to convince him of myhonest intentions upon all occasions; whereas had I been my own master,the rules of good conduct would have obliged me to confine myself tothings in their own nature practicable.

The Cardinal Mazarin confessed to me, many years afterwards, that thisconduct of mine in managing the affairs of the diocese, though it did himno injury, was the first thing that made him jealous of my growinggreatness in Paris. Another thing alarmed him with as little reason,and that was my undertaking to examine the capacity of all the priestsof my diocese, a thing of inconceivable use and importance. For thisend I erected three tribunals, composed of canons, curates, and men ofreligious orders, who were to reduce all the priests under threedifferent classes, whereof the first was to consist of men wellqualified, who were therefore to be left in the exercise of theirfunctions; the second was to comprehend those who were not at present,but might in time prove able men; and the third of such men as wereneither now nor ever likely to become so. The two last classes, beingseparated from the first, were not to exercise their functions, but werelodged in separate houses; those of the second class were instructed inthe doctrine, but the third only in the practice of piety. As this couldnot but be very expensive, the good people opened their purses andcontributed liberally. The Cardinal was so disturbed when he heard of itthat he got the Queen to send for my uncle upon a frivolous occasion,who, for reasons as frivolous, ordered me to desist. Though I was verywell informed, by my good friend the Almoner, that the blow came fromCourt, I bore it with a great deal more patience than was consistent witha man of my spirit, for I did not seem to take the least notice of it,but was as gracious to the Cardinal as ever. But I was not so wary inanother case which happened some time after, for honest Morangis tellingme I was too extravagant, which was but too true, I answered him rashly,"I have made a calculation that Caesar, when at my age, owed six times asmuch." This remark was carried, unluckily, by a doctor then present, toM. Servien, who told it maliciously to the Cardinal, who made a jest ofit, as he had reason to do, but he took notice of it, for which I cannotblame him.

In 1645 I was invited, as a diocesan, to the assembly of the clergy,which, I may truly say, was the rock whereon the little share of favour Ihad at Court was cast away. Cardinal de Richelieu had given a cruel blowto the dignity and liberty of the clergy in the assembly of Mantes, and,with very barbarous circumstances, had banished six of his mostconsiderable prelates. It was resolved in this assembly of 1645 to makethem some amends for their firmness on that occasion by inviting them tocome and take their places--though they were not deputed--among theirbrethren. When this was first, proposed in the assembly, nobody dreamtthat the Court would take offence at it, and it falling to my turn tospeak first, I proposed the said resolution, as it had been concertedbetwixt us before in private conversation, and it was unanimouslyapproved of by the assembly.

At my return home the Queen's purse-bearer came to me with an order toattend her Majesty forthwith, which I accordingly obeyed. When I cameinto her presence she said she could not have believed I would ever havebeen wanting in my duty to that degree as to wound the memory of the lateKing, her lord. I had such reasons to offer as she could not herselfconfute, and therefore referred me to the Cardinal, but I found heunderstood those things no better than her Majesty. He spoke to me withthe haughtiest air in the world, refused to hear my justification, andcommanded me in the King's name to retract publicly the next day in fullassembly. You may imagine how difficult it was for me to resolve what todo. However, I did not break out beyond the bounds of modest respect,and, finding that my submission made no impression upon the Cardinal,I got the Bishop of Arles, a wise and moderate gentleman, to go to himalong with me, and to join with me in offering our reasons. But we foundhis Eminence a very ignoramus in ecclesiastical polity. I only mentionthis to let yon see that in my first misunderstanding with the Court Iwas not to blame, and that my respect for the Cardinal upon the Queen'saccount was carried to an excess of patience.

Some months after, his profound ignorance and envenomed malice furnishedme with a fresh occasion to exercise patience. The Bishop of Warmia, oneof the ambassadors that came to fetch the Queen of Poland, was verydesirous to celebrate the marriage in the Church of Notre-Dame. Thoughthe archbishops of Paris never suffered solemnities of this kind to becelebrated in their churches by any but cardinals of the royal family,and though my uncle had been highly blamed by all his clergy forpermitting the Cardinal de La Rochefoucault to marry the Queen ofEngland,--[Henriette Marie of France, daughter of Henri IV., died 1669.]--nevertheless I was ordered by a 'lettre de cachet' to prepare the saidChurch of Notre Dame for the Bishop of Warmia, which order ran in thesame style as that given to the 'prevot des marchands' when he is toprepare the Hotel de Ville for a public ball. I showed the letter to thedeans and canons, and said I did not doubt but it was a stratagem of oneor other of the Secretary of State's clerks to get a gift of money.

I thereupon went to the Cardinal, pressed him with both reasons andprecedents, and said that, as I was his particular humble servant,I hoped he would be pleased to lay them before her Majesty, making use ofall other persuasion--which I thought would dispose him to a compliance.It was then that I learned that he only wanted an opportunity to embroilme with the Queen, for though I saw plainly that he was sorry he hadgiven such orders before he knew their consequence, yet, after somepause, he reassumed his former obstinacy to the very last degree; and,because I spoke in the name of the Archbishop and of the whole Church ofParis, he stormed as much as if a private person upon his own authorityhad presumed to make a speech to him at the head of fifty malcontents.I endeavoured with all respect to show him that our case was quitedifferent; but he was so ignorant of our manners and customs that he tookeverything by the wrong handle. He ended the conversation very abruptlyand rudely, and referred me to the Queen. I found her Majesty in afretful mood, and all I could get out of her was a promise to hear thechapter upon this affair, without whose consent--I had declared I couldnot conclude anything.

I sent for them accordingly, and having introduced them to the Queen,they spoke very discreetly and to the purpose. The Queen sent us back tothe Cardinal, who entertained us only with impertinences, and as he hadbut a superficial knowledge of the French language, he concluded bytelling me that I had talked very insolently to him the night before.You may imagine that that word was enough to vex me, but having resolvedbeforehand to keep my temper, I smiled, and said to the deputies,"Gentlemen, this is fine language." He was nettled at my smile, and saidto me in aloud tone, "Do you know whom you talk to? I will teach you howto behave." Now, I confess, my blood began to boil. I told him that theCoadjutor of Paris was talking to Cardinal Mazarin, but that perhaps hethought himself the Cardinal de Lorraine, and me the Bishop of Metz, hissuffragan.

Then we went away and met the Marechal d'Estrees coming up to us, whocame to advise me not to break with the Court, and to tell me that thingsmight be arranged; and when he found I was of another opinion, he told mein plain terms that he had orders from the Queen to oblige me to come toher. I went without more ado, accompanied by the deputies, and found hermore gracious and better humoured than I am able to express. She told methat she had a mind to see me, not so much in relation to our affair,which might be easily accommodated, as to reprimand me for using suchlanguage to the poor Cardinal, who was as meek as a lamb, and loved meas his own son. She added all the kind things possible, and ordered thedean and deputies to go along with me to the Cardinal's house, that wemight consult together what course to take. This was so much against myinclination that I gave the Queen to understand that no person in theworld but her Majesty could have persuaded me to it.

We found the Minister even milder than his mistress. He made a world ofexcuses for the word "insolent," by which he said, and perhaps it may betrue, that he meant no more than 'insolito', a word signifying "somewhatuncommon." He showed me all the civility imaginable, but, instead ofcoming to any determination, put us off to another opportunity. A fewdays after, a letter was brought me at midnight from the Archbishop,commanding me to let the Bishop of Warmia perform the marriage withoutany more opposition.

Had I been wise I should have stopped there, because a man ought inprudence to make his peace with the Court upon any terms consistent withhonour. But I was young, and the more provoked because I perceived thatall the fair words given me at Fontainebleau were but a feint to gaintime to write about the affair to my uncle, then at Angers. However, Isaid nothing to the messenger, more than that I was glad my uncle had sowell brought me off. The chapter being likewise served with the sameorder, we sent the Court this answer: That the Archbishop might do whathe listed in the nave of the church, but that the choir belonged to thechapter, and they would yield it to no man but himself or his coadjutor.The Cardinal knew the meaning of this, and thereupon resolved to have themarriage solemnised in the Chapel Royal, whereof he said the GreatAlmoner was bishop. But this being a yet more important question thanthe other, I laid the inconveniences of it before him in a letter. Thisnettled him, and he made a mere jest of my letter. I gave the Queen ofPoland to understand that, if she were married in that manner, I shouldbe forced, even against my will, to declare the marriage void; but thatthere remained one expedient which would effectually remove alldifficulties,--that the marriage might be performed in the King's Chapel,and should stand good provided that the Bishop of Warmia came to me for alicense.

The Queen, resolving to lose no more time by awaiting new orders fromAngers, and fearing the least flaw in her marriage, the Court was obligedto comply with my proposal, and the ceremony was performed accordingly.

Not long after this marriage I was unhappily embroiled with the Ducd'Orleans, upon an occasion of no greater importance than my foot-clothin the Church of Notre-Dame, which was by mistake removed to his seat.I complained of it to him, and he ordered it to be restored.Nevertheless the Abby de la Riviere made him believe I had put an affrontupon him that was too public to be pardoned. The Duke was so simple asto believe it, and, while the courtiers turned all into banter, he sworehe would receive incense before me at the said church for the future.In the meantime the Queen sent for me, and told me that the Duke was ina terrible passion, for which she was very sorry, but that neverthelessshe could not help being of his opinion, and therefore insisted upon itthat I ought to give him satisfaction in the Church of Notre-Dame theSunday following. Upon the whole she referred me to Cardinal Mazarin,who declared to me at first that he was very sorry to see me in so muchtrouble, blamed the Abby for having incensed the Duke to such a degree,and used all the arguments he could to wheedle me to give my consent tobeing degraded. And when he saw I was not to be led, he endeavoured todrive me into the snare. He stormed with an air of authority, and wouldfain have bullied me into compliance, telling me that hitherto he hadspoken as a friend, but that I had forced him henceforth to speak as aminister. He also began to threaten, and the conversation growing warm,he sought to pick a quarrel by insinuating that if I would do as SaintAmbrose did, I ought to lead a life like him. As he spoke this loudenough to be heard by some bishops at the other end of the room, Ilikewise raised my voice, and told him I would endeavour to make the bestuse of his advice, but he might assure himself I was fully resolved so toimitate Saint Ambrose in this affair that I might, through his means,obtain grace to be able to imitate him in all others.

I had not been long gone home when the Marechal d'Estrees andM. Senneterre came, furnished with all the flowers of rhetoric,to persuade me that degradation was honourable; and finding me immovable,they insinuated that my obstinacy might oblige his Highness to use force,and order his guards to carry me, in spite of myself, to Notre-Dame,and place me there on a seat below his. I thought this suggestion tooridiculous to mind it at first, but being forewarned of it that veryevening by the Duke's Chancellor, I put myself upon the defensive, whichI think is the most ridiculous piece of folly I was ever guilty of,considering it was against a son of France, and when there was a profoundtranquillity in the State, without the least appearance of any commotion.The Duke, to whom I had the honour of being related, was pleased with myboldness. He remembered the Abby de la Riviere for his insolence incomplaining that the Prince de Conti was marked down for a cardinalbefore him; besides, the Duke knew I was in the right, having made itvery evident in a statement I had published upon this head. Heacquainted the Cardinal with it, said he would not suffer the leastviolence to be offered to me; that I was both his kinsman and devotedservant, and that he would not set out for the army till he saw theaffair at an end.

All the Court was in consternation for fear of a rupture, especially whenthe Prince de Conde had been informed by the Queen of what his son hadsaid; and when he came to my house and found there sixty or eightygentlemen, this made him believe that a league was already made with theDuke, but there was nothing in it. He swore, he threatened, he begged,he flattered, and in his transports he let fall some expressions whichshowed that the Duke was much more concerned for my interest than he everyet owned to me. I submitted that very instant, and told the Prince thatI would do anything rather than the royal family should be divided on myaccount. The Prince, who hitherto found me immovable, was so touched atmy sudden surrender in complaisance to his son, at the very time, too,when he himself had just assured me I was to expect a powerful protectionfrom him, that he suddenly changed his temper, so that, instead ofthinking as he did at first, that there was no satisfaction great enoughfor the Duc d'Orleans, he now determined plainly in favour of theexpedient I had so often proposed,--that I should go and declare to him,in the presence of the whole Court, that I never designed to be wantingin the respect I owed him, and that the orders of the Church had obligedme to act as I did at Notre-Dame. The Cardinal and the Abby de laRiviere were enraged to the last degree, but the Prince put them intosuch fear of the Duke that they were fain to submit. The Prince took meto the Duc d'Orleans's house, where I gave them satisfaction before thewhole Court, precisely in the words above mentioned. His Highness wasquite satisfied with my reasons, carried me to see his medals, and thusended the controversy.

As this affair and the marriage of the Queen of Poland had embroiled mewith the Court, you may easily conceive what turn the courtiers gave toit. But here I found by experience that all the powers upon earth cannothurt the reputation of a man who preserves it established and unspottedin the society whereof he is a member. All the learned clergy took mypart, and I soon perceived that many of those who had before blamed myconduct now retracted. I made this observation upon a thousand otheroccasions. I even obliged the Court, some time after, to commend my,proceedings, and took an opportunity to convince the Queen that it was mydignity, and not any want of respect and gratitude, that made me resistthe Court in the two former cases. The Cardinal was very well pleasedwith me, and said in public that he found me as much concerned for theKing's service as I was before for the honour of my character.

It falling to my turn to make the speech at the breaking up of theassembly of the clergy at Paris, I had the good luck to please both theclergy and the Court. Cardinal Mazarin took me to supper with him alone,seemed to be clear of all prejudices against me, and I verily believe wasfully persuaded that he had been imposed upon. But I was too muchbeloved in Paris to continue long in favour at Court. This was a crimethat rendered me disagreeable in the eyes of a refined Italian statesman,and which was the more dangerous from the fact that I lost no opportunityof aggravating it by a natural and unaffected expense, to which my air ofnegligence gave a lustre, and by my great alms and bounty, which, thoughvery often secret, had the louder echo; whereas, in truth, I had actedthus at first only in compliance with inclination and out of a sense ofduty. But the necessity I was under of supporting myself against theCourt obliged me to be yet more liberal. I do but just mention it hereto show you that the Court was jealous of me, when I never thought myselfcapable of giving them the least occasion, which made me reflect that aman is oftener deceived by distrusting than by being overcredulous.

Cardinal Mazarin, who was born and bred in the Pope's dominions, wherepapal authority has no limits, took the impetus given to the regal powerby his tutor, the Cardinal de Richelieu, to be natural to the bodypolitic, which mistake of his occasioned the civil war, though we mustlook much higher for its prime cause.

It is above 1,200 years that France has been governed by kings, but theywere not as absolute at first as they are now. Indeed, their authoritywas never limited by written laws as are the Kings of England andCastile, but only moderated by received customs, deposited, as I may say,at first in the hands of the States of the kingdom, and afterwards inthose of the Parliament. The registering of treaties with other Crownsand the ratifications of edicts for raising money are almost obliteratedimages of that wise medium between the exorbitant power of the Kings andthe licentiousness of the people instituted by our ancestors. Wise andgood Princes found that this medium was such a seasoning to their poweras made it delightful to their people. On the other hand, weak andvicious Kings always hated it as an obstacle to all their extravagances.The history of the Sire de Joinville makes it evident that Saint Louiswas an admirer of this scheme of government, and the writings of Oresme,Bishop of Lisieux, and of the famous Juvenal des Ursins, convince us thatCharles V., who merited the surname of Wise, never thought his power tobe superior to the laws and to his duty. Louis XI., more cunning thantruly wise, broke his faith upon this head as well as all others. LouisXII. would have restored this balance of power to its ancient lustre ifthe ambition of Cardinal Amboise,--[George d'Amboise, the first of thename, in 1498 Minister to Louis XII., deceased 1510.]--who governed himabsolutely, had not opposed it.

The insatiable avarice of Constable Montmorency--[Anne de Montmorency,Constable of France in 1538, died 1567.]--tended rather to enlarge thanrestrain the authority of Francois I. The extended views and vastdesigns of M. de Guise would not permit them to think of placing boundsto the prerogative under Francois II. In the reigns of Charles IX. andHenri III. the Court was so fatigued with civil broils that they tookeverything for rebellion which was not submission. Henri IV., who wasnot afraid of the laws, because he trusted in himself, showed he had ahigh esteem for them. The Duc de Rohan used to say that Louis XIII. wasjealous of his own authority because he was ignorant of its full extent,for the Marechal d'Ancrel and M. de Luynes were mere dunces, incapable ofinforming him. Cardinal de Richelieu, who succeeded them, collected allthe wicked designs and blunders of the two last centuries to serve hisgrand purpose. He laid them down as proper maxims for establishing theKing's authority, and, fortune seconding his designs by the disarming ofthe Protestants in France, by the victories of the Swedes, by theweakness of the Empire and of Spain, he established the most scandalousand dangerous tyranny that perhaps ever enslaved a State in the bestconstituted monarchy under the sun.

Custom, which has in some countries inured men even to broil as it werein the heat of the sun, has made things familiar to us which ourforefathers dreaded more than fire itself. We no longer feel the slaverywhich they abhorred more for the interest of their King than for theirown. Cardinal de Richelieu counted those things crimes which before himwere looked upon as virtues. The Mirons, Harlays, Marillacs, Pibracs,and the Fayes, those martyrs of the State who dispelled more factions bytheir wholesome maxims than were raised in France by Spanish or Britishgold, were defenders of the doctrine for which the Cardinal de Richelieuconfined President Barillon in the prison of Amboise. And the Cardinalbegan to punish magistrates for advancing those truths which they wereobliged by their oaths to defend at the hazard of their lives.

Our wise Kings, who understood their true interest, made the Parliamentthe depositary of their ordinances, to the end that they might exemptthemselves from part of the odium that sometimes attends the execution ofthe most just and necessary decrees. They thought it no disparagement totheir royalty to be bound by them,--like unto God, who himself obeys thelaws he has preordained. ['A good government: where the people obey theirking and the king obeys the law'--Solon. D.W.] Ministers of State, whoare generally so blinded by the splendour of their fortune as never to becontent with what the laws allow, make it their business to overturnthem; and Cardinal de Richelieu laboured at it more constantly than anyother, and with equal application and imprudence.

God only is self-existent and independent; the most rightful monarchs andestablished monarchies in the world cannot possibly be supported but bythe conjunction of arms and laws,--a union so necessary that the onecannot subsist without the other. Laws without the protection of armssink into contempt, and arms which are not tempered by laws quickly turna State into anarchy. The Roman commonwealth being set aside by JuliusCaesar, the supreme power which was devolved upon his successors by forceof arms subsisted no longer than they were able to maintain the authorityof the laws; for as soon as the laws lost their force, the power of theRoman Emperors vanished, and the very men that were their favourites,having got possession of their seals and their arms, converted theirmasters' substance into their own, and, as it were, sucked them dry underthe shelter of those repealed laws. The Roman Empire, formerly sold byauction to the highest bidder, and the Turkish emperors, whose necks areexposed every day to the bowstring, show us in very bloody characters theblindness of those men that make authority to consist only in force.

But why need we go abroad for examples when we have so many at home?Pepin, in dethroning the Merovingian family, and Capet, in dispossessingthe Carlovingians, made use of nothing else but the same power which theministers, their predecessors, had acquired under the authority of theirmasters; and it is observable that the mayors of the Palace and thecounts of Paris placed themselves on the thrones of kings exactly by thesame methods that gained them their masters' favours,--that is, byweakening and changing the laws of the land, which at first alwayspleases weak princes, who fancy it aggrandises their power; but in itsconsequence it gives a power to the great men and motives to the commonpeople to rebel against their authority. Cardinal de Richelieu wascunning enough to have all these views, but he sacrificed everything tohis interest. He would govern according to his own fancy, which scornedto be tied to rules, even in cases where it would have cost him nothingto observe them. And he acted his part so well that, if his successorhad been a man of his abilities, I doubt not that the title of PrimeMinister, which he was the first to assume, would have been as odious inFrance in a little time as were those of the Maire du Palais and theComte de Paris. But by the providence of God, Cardinal Mazarin, whosucceeded him, was not capable of giving the State any jealousy of hisusurpation. As these two ministers contributed chiefly, though in adifferent way, to the civil war, I judge it highly necessary to give youthe particular character of each, and to draw a parallel between them.Cardinal de Richelieu was well descended; his merit sparkled even in hisyouth. He was taken notice of at the Sorbonne, and it was very soonobserved that he had a strong genius and a lively fancy. He was commonlyhappy in the choice of his parties. He was a man of his word, unlessgreat interests swayed him to the contrary, and in such a case he wasvery artful to preserve all the appearances of probity. He was notliberal, yet he gave more than he promised, and knew admirably wellhow to season all his favours. He was more ambitious than was consistentwith the rules of morality, although it must be owned that, whenever hedispensed with them in favour of his extravagant ambition, his greatmerit made it almost excusable. He neither feared dangers nor yetdespised them, and prevented more by his sagacity than he surmounted byhis resolution. He was a hearty friend, and even wished to be beloved bythe people; but though he had civility, a good aspect, and all the otherqualifications to gain that love, yet he still wanted something--I knownot what to call it--which is absolutely necessary in this case. By hispower and royal state he debased and swallowed up the personal majesty ofthe King. He distinguished more judiciously than any man in the worldbetween bad and worse, good and better, which is a great qualification ina minister. He was too apt to be impatient at mere trifles when they hadrelation to things of moment; but those blemishes, owing to his loftyspirit, were always accompanied with the necessary talent of knowledge tomake amends for those imperfections. He had religion enough for this